All language subtitles for Pie.in.the.Sky.S01E08.A.Matter.of.Taste.AMZN-Hi OFF

Don´t worry, it´ll be
safe over at Drummond´s.

Now, table´s 4 is asking.

What´s that?

Oh, don´t panic, Henry.

We´re just temporarily out of
Cabernet Sauvignon, that´s all.

I thought George was supposed
to be delivering some.

He was.
I´ll give another call.

George Porter Wines here.
I´m sorry I´m not available.

If you´d like to place
an order, please do.

Porter,
this is the wrong order,

and you damn well know it!

What the hell
are you playing at?!

Well, I can´t understand it.
He´s usually so reliable.

Two pie -- one sole,
one liver and bacon.

Steak and kidney pie,
boiled and cabbage.

Well, if this keeps up,

we´re going to have
to take on new staff.

Not to mention, a new chef.

The boys
are on their way.

George?

Greenslade.

Oh, crumbs.

I didn´t think he´d
twig that quickly.

George!

I´m going back to Drummond´s
to finish up.

What if there´s
somebody there?

Who´s going to be there
this time of night?

Come on!

- Yeah!
- Whoo-hoo!

We´ve done it!
I can´t believe we --

Yeah!

Oh, God, it´s them.

Alvi, wait -- why don´t you wait
until we get back?

Alvi, look out!!

Ha!

It´s empty.

Well, get the keys.

Must be in his lock-up.

Good. He´s quite stable.
Right?

Oh, right.

Oh, Rosie.

Oh, I´m so sorry.

I know.

How is he?

Stable, apparently --
whatever that means.

You look awful.

Oh, thanks.

Not much cop at this,
am I?

It´s good of you to come,
Margaret.

I appreciate it.

So, what was George doing
by the old quarry

at that time of night
anyhow, Chef?

No idea.

Hey, do you reckon
he was on the old, um...

Ha!

Well, George always did take
a very personal interest

in his stocks.

You know, Margaret and Rosie
were at school together.

Henry, I think you should
have a look at this.

Can I help you?

Uh, Mr. Crabbe?

Yes.

Are you at all remotely aware

of the statutory regulations

regarding outdoor advertising
in conservation areas?

I beg your pardon?

Any unlicensed placard, board,
or other display

shall be subject
to an overall size limit

of 0.3 square meters

unless wholly employed
as a memorial, railway sign,

or approved direction
to traffic.

Town and Country
Planning Act, 1990.

Not a memorial, is it?

Or a traffic direction.

And I have to confess --

I haven´t heard
many choo-choo trains.

Kevin Tasker --

Deputy Assistant Chief
Planning Officer

Barstock, RDC.

I´m afraid, Mr. Crabbe,
we´ve had complaints.

About the sign?

May I come in?

He was just back from
a buying trip in France.

The Cabernet Sauvignon,
you know?

He´s got this deal
with Nick Greenslade --

the chap who owns that flashy
restaurant in town.

They go halves on 200 cases
a couple of times a year.

Oh, dear, dear, dear.

What about
these complaints?!
The noise, for one thing.

Raucous laughter
at very nearly midnight.

Noise? But this is a restaurant,
for heaven´s sake.

There´s bound
to be a bit of noise.

I refer you

to the schedule of conditions

attached to your original
planning permission.

Are you familiar
with this document?

It´s my constant
bedside reading.

Then you´ll know
that closing time

is clearly stipulated
at 11:00 p.m.

And according to this,
the bar should be over there.

God knows what´s going to happen
with the business.

I mean, with George.

What do you want?

Anything.

Look, I don´t suppose
you could look after things

for a couple of days?

Me?

You know I don´t know
anything about wine.

Well, you know our prices,
don´t you?

You´ve been doing our books
for long enough.

Anyway,
there´s nothing to it.

People just ring in their orders
and you deliver.

How? I thought you said
the van was a write-off.

Hire one -- take the money
out of the kitty.

You could do that,
couldn´t you?

Are you sure there
isn´t something

you´re not telling me?

Rosie?

Yes, I know that look.

It reminds me of when
I was round the back

of the bike sheds,

and found the air wreathed
in phantom cigarette smoke.

Honestly, I´d just feel
so much happier

knowing there was someone
reliable around the place.

All right.

Thanks, Margaret.
Mm-hmm.

Is this
your extraction apparatus?

Obviously!

Who´s been making these
so-called complaints?

I´m afraid we´re not
permitted to say.

Then, of course,
there is the small matter

of off-street parking.

Parking?!

Spaces for 12 cars,
I believe.

Where is it?

Are you telling me
I´m supposed to put a carpark

in my own garden?!

Exactly!

What about the chicken run?

Chicken run.

Oh, no, no, please.

Cambridge!

Morning, sir.

What do you want?!

Mr. Fisher requests the pleasure
of your company.

Well, thank God, for that.

For a minute there, I thought
you´d come to arrest me

for unlawful possession
of an agricultural building!

Sorry?

If we could take a look

at the offending structure,
please?

Steve, would you?

You´ll be closed
within the month, Crabbe.

These bureaucrats are a bunch

of spineless thugs, you know?

Yes, sir.

I mean, if the government

wants to tear up and destroy
half of Hampshire

just to put a motorway in,
or some fat cat

wants to put a theme park
in the middle of the green belt,

you won´t hear a squeak
out of the planners.

Yes, sir.

But you just let one
small businessman

infringe a couple of petty
building regulations,

and they´ll
throw the book at you.

Right.

What are we doing up here?

The uniforms have turned up
an abandoned vehicle,

possibly used in a ram-raid
late last night.

Ram-raid?

On a wholesale
wine warehouse, sir.

Seems Mr. Fisher´s
taking a personal interest.

Well, you live and learn.

I always assumed Fisher
was teetotal.

Would it be against
your ecological principles

to clean this out
one in a while, Henderson?

Go on, bit of old veg
won´t hurt you.

We, uh, did say 30 quid?

25, as it happens.

Does go, I take it?

Whoo, like a bomb.

Of course, um,
you got to top it up

with liquid manure
every 20 miles.

What?

Only joking.

As long as you keep it
at a 1/3,

and you don´t try using
the lights and the heater

at the same time,
you´ll be fine.

Go on!
Bit of stick!

Morning, morning.

Ah.

This is the one, all right.
stolen, of course.

They obviously had
another vehicle waiting,

shifted the loot here
and off, right, Bullick?

Yes, sir. Bit of an oil leak,
by the look of it and, uh --

Professional London team
up on an away day,

I suppose.

Still, I know you´ll leave
no stone unturned.

Is there a problem,
Inspector?

I´m just curious, sir.

I mean, it´s not as though
a ram-raid is, uh,

exactly rare these days.

Well, uh, no, uh.

Um...carry on, Bullick.

A word.

You´re quite right,
of course.

Normally, I´d just send down
a couple of DCs.

But as
it´s Drummond´s place...

Drummond, sir?

Don´t you ever read
the local press?

Eh, no, no.

I´m afraid not, sir, no.

It´s age, I expect.

But my natural enthusiasm
for the car boot sales

and the Barstock WIC´s
have gone into a steep decline.

Well, for your information,
Councilor Ernest Drummond

just happens to chair

the local government
police liaison committee.

Oh, is he? Ah, yes.

Well, then he would expect
rather more

than a couple of DCs,
wouldn´t he, sir?

We need all the allies we can
get on that committee --

especially with the police
budget up for review.

Yeah, would you excuse me
for one moment, sir?

I think you might be able
to tell him...

that at least one
of his ram-raiders is a...

bit of a secret vodka drinker,
if that´s of any interest.

Excellent, Crabbe.

I knew I could rely on you
to put on a bit of a show.

Yeah, well, um...

keep me informed, hmm?

Of course, sir.

Right then.

Good luck.

Bye, sir.

He must have stashed the rest
somewhere else.

Harry Johnson, here.

Listen, old man, I could do
with a bit of a top up

on the Côtes du Rhône.

Bye.

Hello?

Porter,
this is the wrong order

and you damn well know it.

What the hell
are you playing at?

Five years ago,
this was all green fields.

Now, look at it.

Another miracle
of the planner´s art.

Mr. Drummond?

Correct.

Detective Inspector Crabbe,
Barstock, CID.

Oh, yes,
come in, Inspector.

Fisher tells me you´re one
of his most reliable officers.

Oh, Henderson!

This one´s from a fixed
camera in the retail area.

The desk´s only manned at
business hours, of course,

but we keep the tape running
overnight, just in case.

Yeah, I´m sorry --
I´m sorry, can I just see

that last bit again, please?

It´s curious how they go for
that particular stack, isn´t it?

Yes, well, they would,
wouldn´t they?

It´s the ´61 Margaux
Premier Cru.

We only just got it in.

Yeah, but how´d
they know that?

How much was
the wine worth, sir?

Oh, 75 cases
at 820 quid a case.

About 60,000
clear of VAT.

Serious money.

I presume the chances
of my seeing the Margaux again

are pretty near zero?

We´ll do our best,
Mr. Drummond.

I wonder if you have
a minute.

Sure.
Uh, would you excuse us,
my dear?

What is your clear up rate for
this sort of thing these days?

15%?
20%, if you´re lucky?

I´m afraid
I´m not terribly good

at statistics myself, sir.

I´m not blaming you.

I know very well you´re
undermanned and under-funded --

hamstrung by the liberal
bleeding hearts

and the legal Mafia.

Believe me -- I´ve made
that speech often enough

in the blasted committee.

You can ask Freddy Fisher.

Oh, by the way -- I thought I´d
give you a little something

to take back to him.

I didn´t want to do it
in front of the other ranks.

Oh, very wise.

I´d guess he´s a crusted port
man, wouldn´t you?

Hmm.

Thanks.

I´m sorry about this.
I know it´s in here somewhere.

Must be quite difficult
keeping track of it all.

What´s in there?

Oh, that´s
private reserve stock.

We rent space to some
of our special customers

who don´t want the bother

keeping up a proper cellar
of their own.

Sounds quite
an expensive business.

Worth every penny,
Inspector.

Vintage Claret is a good
investment these days.

Some of the best Chateaux
have quadrupled

in the last 10 years.

Ah, here we go.

Was George Porter
one of your customers at all?

Porter?
Oh, good God, no.

Something wrong?

Ah, no, no.
No, it´s just...

this is in the wrong place,
that´s all.

Why do you
ask about Porter?

Oh, well, he was in a car
accident last night

on the far side
of the old quarry.

I wondered
if he was on his way here.

Oh, no. Hardly.

Although he used to work
for me, as a matter of fact.

I, uh...
I had to let him go.

Oh, Ferguson?

Can you get that
Cabernet Sauvignon

back to where it belongs?

Yes, Mr. Drummond.

Confidentially, Porter
was a bit of a drinker.

Ah, occupational hazard,
I imagine.

Not in my outfit.
I make damn sure of that.

If I´ve understood it right,

the council will send us
a breach of condition notice,

which gives us 28 days
to do the work.

If we don´t do it,
they´ll take us to court.

Alternatively, we could apply
directly to the Home Secretary,

which takes about six months.

And we´ve got about as much
chance of success there

as I have of winning the Derby
on one of those chickens.

Excuse me, Mr. Crabbe.

I may have
something on this.
Oh?

You see, I´ve been
making a few inquiries

of my own this afternoon,
around the trade.

And the word is...
that we´ve been nobbled.

How do you mean, "nobbled"?

Well, you know that fancy
French restaurant in Barstock,

Le Grande Boeuf?

Well, apparently, they´ve been
losing a lot of business lately,

and mostly to us.

Well, I´m not surprised.

You remember we had
the hake there that night?

It was over-sauced
and distinctly overpriced.

Nicholas Greenslade´s place.

He´s the man who imports

the Cabernet Sauvignon
with George.

Nicholas Greenslade´s got
this driver sort of a chap

called Leavis,
and his brother-in-law

just so happens to work
at the Town Hall.

No.
Exactly.

Kevin Tasker.

Deputy Assistant
Chief Planning Officer

Barstock Rural District Council.

Oh, the little rat!

Industrial sabotage,
by God.

Nobbled.

Yes, but we still can´t prove
they´re in collusion, can we?

Well, we have to think
of something.

Well, it´s been
an early night.

Tasker´s probably out
in the shrubberies now,

taking notes.

I hope he freezes.

Go home, Mrs. Porter.

I promise we´ll call you
if there´s any change.

Hello, Rosie.

How´s poor old George?

Henry?

Mm-hmm?

Do you think George´s
accident was an accident?

Of course.

Why do you ask?

Oh, I don´t know.

´Cause there was a really odd
message on the answer phone.

Rosie always did attract
trouble, even at school.

You´re imagining things.

So, you don´t think that
they could be involved

in anything...dodgy?

Like, what?

Well, I don´t know.

Something to do with
the Cabernet Sauvignon?

Oh, no, Margaret.

There´s nothing whatsoever
dodgy about George´s wine.

Oh, well.
That´s all right then.

But it is a bit odd.

What is?

Being followed.

Are you seriously telling me
someone´s been following you?

Well, I think so.

One of those
Range Rover things, you know.

Did you get the number?

Look, I haven´t been married
to a police officer

for all these years
for nothing, thank you.

Morning, sir.
How are they taking the news?

How are whom
taking what news?

Well, you know?

About the carpark.
The chickens.

Chickens.

Are you implying that
I´m in the habit

of exchanging idle gossip
with the livestock, Constable?

No, no, of course not, sir.
Sorry.

Well, I should hope so, too.

I´m not entirely
in my dotage yet, you know.

Anyhow, we got lucky
with the vodka bottle.

Forensics found a print.

One Alvis Murray, age 20,
history of TDA and auto theft.

Last known address --
602 Chadwick House,

on the Shaftsbury Estate.

Hmm.

Well, that is good news.

No, don´t look at me
like that, Fisher.

I´ve told you --
it´s not my fault.

Any word
on that vehicle check yet?

DVLC have that
as a black Range Rover,

registered to
a Mr. Nicholas Greenslade.

Mr. Nicholas Greenslade?

Hmm, yes.
Do you know him, sir?

No, I ate at
his restaurant once though.

Hmm, I don´t suppose
you´d care to tell me

what this is all about, sir?

Oh, no, it´s just a bit
of private business, Cambridge.

So, you´re saying
that she hasn´t been here

since last night?

She left about 10:00,
I think.

Well, I can´t understand it.
Her car´s still in the carpark.

Oh, sorry.

Um, look, when you do
catch up with her,

tell her not to worry, okay?

I´m pretty sure her husband´s
going to be fine.

Thanks.

Ugh, yet another triumph

for the Barstock
Planning Department.

Back in the ´60s, they probably
got bucket-loads of awards

for this little lot.

Yes, sir.

You don´t think
you´re getting a bit obsessive

about the planners,
do you, sir?

It´s not your livelihood they´re
meddling with, Cambridge.

Here we are, sir.

Alvis Murray´s block --
complete with van.

Sir? Oil leak.

You know, there´s one aspect
of police work

I´d completely
forgotten about --

the sheer tedium of it all.

Oi, darling.
Would you fancy a spin?

Yeah.
Let´s take mine, shall we?

Good grief.

Yeah, what do you want?

Alvis Murray,

I´m arresting you
on suspicion of theft.

Here -- you can´t do that!

Oh, look, Cambridge.

Having a party?

All right then.

Let´s try again, shall we?

Who put you up to it?

I told you.
It was all my idea.

Ah. Right.

So, one morning
over the cornflakes,

you thought -- "I know,
let´s knock over 60 grand´s

worth of vintage Claret.

60 grand?

Never mind
about selling it --

we´ll work out
how to do that later.

He only told us 5.

Cass.

We´re not grassing.
All right?

Oh, please.

Anyway, it weren´t what
he said -- Claret --

It was Margaux-something.
Said so on the boxes.

Losers, Cambridge.

Why do we always end up
getting the losers?

Do you mind?

I mean, you´ve got to be
an idiot

to leave your fingerprints
all over a vodka bottle,

don´t you?

Or to stack up the loot
in your front room?

It was only ´til tea time,
weren´t it?

Oh, yeah?
What happens then?

You think
you´re so clever, don´t you?

Not to mention -- practically

causing a pile-up
on the getaway?

Look, that bloke in the van --
that wasn´t our fault, you know.

We was dead-worried.

Not worried enough to stop,
apparently.

We would have.

Only the other bloke
got there first.

What other bloke?

You know,
in the Range Rover.

Well, we didn´t know, actually,
but, uh, we will look into it.

Thanks.

Just a bit of a laugh,
like, really.

Bit of a laugh, eh?

Five years in the chokey
a bit of a laugh?

Five years?

Alvi?

Look, there was a bloke.

But we never knew his name
though -- honest.

He just rung up out
of the blue.

Said, if we fancied making
a quick five grand,

to meet him
at the Kings Head, Dockham.

So, you´d have a description
of him?

Well, not really.

It was only five minutes-like
in the carpark.

Oh, for heaven´s sake.

It was dark.
He was all muffled up.

Sort of an old geezer --
posh accent.

He just told us where to find
the stuff, didn´t he?

We´re supposed to meet him
on Parson´s Peace at 3:00.

All right. Let´s settle this.

Look, I´ve just about
had enough of this. All right?

Mrs. Crabbe?
Please, won´t you join us?

Nothing yet.

Call me "obsessive"
if you like, but,

it´s only a matter of time
before all this lot

disappears underneath
a golf course or something.

You knew about
Greenslade´s Range Rover

being involved, didn´t you?

No, actually, honestly,
I didn´t.

Oh...

Really.

This is just between you
and me though, all right?

Of course.

Well, Margaret´s concerned
that George Porter´s

got himself into a fix
over a deal with Greenslade.

Apparently, the pair of them
went halves

on a van-load
of Cabernet Sauvignon.

Obviously, Greenslade´s
up to something.

But if there´s a connection

between him
and the ram-raiding business,

I can´t see it.

Unless, of course, the warehouse
is the connection.

Warehouse?
Sorry, you´ve lost me.

Well, George Porter used to work
at the warehouse.

And it may just be coincidence,
but I could swear

I saw some of his wine there
in one of the cellars.

See, if George still had access
to the warehouse,

that might explain
what he was doing out there

when he had his accident.

I see.

So, you´re saying
he just happened to be

in the wrong place
at the wrong time?

Well, yes.

Like a mushroom?

Oh, no.

No, thanks.

You know, I still feel sorry

for Alvis Murray
and his girlfriend.

Sir?

Well, of course,
they´re guilty,

but what are they
really guilty of?

Incompetence? Stupidity?

I think that´s why they were
chosen for the job,

because they´re too dim
to realize what they´d got.

Well, we´re not
social workers, sir.

Aren´t we the avenging angel?

Is that why you joined
the force, Cambridge --

to put away miserable, little
no-hopers like those two?

I think we may
have something.

Single male.

Thank you.

Should we call
for some back up?

Oh, I think not.

Ah, a picnic.

You know, I wonder if our
friend had any intention

of coming
to this meeting at all.

Where are we going now?

Nearly there.

Look, I know George
can be unreliable,

but there are better ways
of doing business than this.

Catch you later.

I´m sorry, Margaret.

A cousin of mine used to say,

you never go wrong
with champagne.

I see we´re just in time
to join the party.

Are you here for the tasting,
Inspector?

Not exactly -- we found
your wine, Mr. Drummond.

You -- really?

Uh...so,

you´ve arrested...

Just a couple of kids from
the local estate, actually.

We´re still looking for
whoever put them up to it.

Well, that´s excellent work.

Really excellent.

Um, would you just excuse me
for a moment?

Sure.

Ladies and gentlemen --

if we could move forward
to the blind tasting?

I´d like to introduce
our distinguished guest,

although I know she doesn´t
need any introduction from me.

I don´t think the Councilor
seemed entirely overjoyed

we´d found his Margaux.

Hmm, That´s exactly
what I thought, sir.

They nabbed me
at the hospital.

I know, I went there.
George is going to be fine.

Oh.

I do apologize
for this, ladies.

But I trust now that you´ve
had time to reflect,

you´re feeling of a mind
to be reasonable.

You´re
Nicholas Greenslade.

Indeed.

You sent that dreadful
little planning person

to my restaurant.

Oh, that!

Oh, just part
of the cut and thrust

of the commercial marketplace,
Mrs. Crabbe.

But I hardly brought you here
to discuss that sort of trivia.

Might be trivia to you -- it´s
life-and-death to my restaurant.

Please.

Not to mention, conspiracy
to corrupt a Council official.

Mrs. Crabbe, please don´t make
me lose my temper.

You wouldn´t enjoy that.

You do know I´m married
to a policeman?

Yes...with a rather dubious
reputation, I believe.

But I´ve been trying to
understand how the two of you

fit into this rather shabby,
little theft?

What´s he talking about?

No idea.

Oh, please.

I´m talking,
as you very well know,

about the Cabernet Sauvignon.

George gave you your
100 cases, didn´t he?

Yes, but unfortunately,
the 30 cases

that I particularly wanted,
were not among them.

Well, maybe you should have told
him what you were up to.

I mean...

Ah.

So, you do know
what I´m talking about then?

Well, I don´t know
what you´re talking about.

Where are they, Mrs. Porter?

And don´t say your husband´s
lock-up, because we´ve looked.

Look, what is in these cases
anyway -- money, drugs?

Wine, Mrs. Crabbe.

Wine?!

Classic Bordeaux.

Some quite
remarkable vintages --

The ´45 Mouton,
´49 Cheval-Blanc,

And 1899 Pichon-Longueville.

Very rare, very expensive,

and I´m really rather keen
to get them back.

Here we are.

Well?

Are you pulling my leg,
Ernest?

I thought this was supposed to
be tasting of table wine.

That´s right.

I´m sorry, but this
is a very good Claret.

A Lafite, in fact.

Well, let´s take a look,
shall we?

Cabernet Sauvignon.

I don´t believe it.

Well, ladies and gentlemen,

that concludes
our blind tasting.

Right, now,
can I be of assistance?

Good to see you.
I´m going to get an order form.

Um, may I?

Thank you.

Thanks.

A number of things

have become blindingly clear
to me, Cambridge.

VAT?

You are telling me that
all of this is some fiddle

on the VAT?

Margaret, have you any idea
the difference between

between VAT on 1,500 quid´s
worth of Cabernet Sauvignon,

and a 250,000
of vintage Bordeaux?

£43,483.50.

I´m an accountant.

Fascinating.

But the point is...

Where´s my wine?

Oh, dear.

You leave me no choice.

Don´t you touch me.

Hey.

I´m serious.

Leave her!
Nobody move.

Just, um,
put the bottle down,

Mrs. Crabbe.

What this, what?
Valuable, is it? Oh!

It´s, um, it´s a 1917 Latour,

and it´s quite
irreplaceable, so, um...

Ah...what about this one?

Oh, well held -- Rosie used to
be our school net ball star.

She hasn´t lost her touch,
has she?

Look, let´s be reasonable,
all right?

Ooh, I can be
very reasonable.

Catch!

No!

Whoa, bad luck.

Idiot!

I tell you what...

why don´t you all just
move over there a bit?

All right, just...
back off, back off.

Just be calm.

That´s right.

No problem.

Whoo. Sorry.
Whoo!

Now, back a bit -- back.

Go!

Excuse me, Madame?
Yes?

Now, look,

I know I made a bit of a fool
of myself in there,

but I´m perfectly fit
to drive.

I´m sure you are.

And I don´t think you made
a fool of yourself at all.

You see?

You were spot-on.

That´s a hell of a trick.

Yes, it is, isn´t it?

But I don´t think you should
blame Mr. Drummond.

He´s got quite
a few tricks of his own,

but I don´t think he knew
anything at all about this one.

Actually, I imagine that
one of his assistants

put this bottle into the tasting
without realizing what it was.

But how?

Oh, well, that´s rather
a long story, I´m afraid.

I wanted to ask you about
something completely different,

if you could spare me a moment
of your time.

All right.

They don´t seem
to be after us.

Yes, well, I expect
that´s because they´re having

a bit of difficulty
starting the car.

You´re wonderful, Margaret.

You knew all along,
didn´t you?

Didn´t you?

Why didn´t you warn me?

How could I?
Henry is a policeman.

George wasn´t in on it,
you know.

That louse, Greenslade,
was just using him

to smuggle the stuff
through Customs.

Only you know George --

he couldn´t resist
having a little taste.

So, when he found out
what it was,

he couldn´t resist swapping
the special for the ordinaire,

and helping himself.

He was entitled,
wasn´t he?

He´d taken all the risk.

And good God, Margaret, you know
how badly we need the cash.

Oh, give me that.

What is this?

Courgette, I think.

You do know where
he´s hidden it, don´t you?

Rosie?!

Well, I did happen to find
this in his pocket.

It´s from this warehouse place
he used to work.

We´ll just have to explain
that George sort of mislaid

some Cabernet Sauvignon.

It´s perfectly reasonable,
isn´t it?

Anyway, we´re not going
to get caught, are we?

That´s what you always said
at school,

and I always ended up
in detention.

Right.

Crabbe...have you gone
stark-staring mad?

I hope not, sir.

Would you
care to tell me --

I´d rather wait
for Counselor Drummond,

if you don´t mind, sir.

Ah, here he is.

Right, let´s be methodical
about this.

Right.

You --

That´s odd.
The alarm seems to be off.

Oh, well.

I´ll have someone´s guts
for garters.

I don´t think I quite understand
the purpose of all this, Freddy.

I´m sure Inspector Crabbe

will explain in due course,
Ernest.

Got it!

Where are you?

Here!

Well done, Margaret.

That one´s been opened.

Well, I´m not surprised.

George was a fool
to leave them here.

Anyone would find it.

Well, he didn´t intend to,
did he?

He was going to come back
later and hide it,

amongst the private stock.

Please.

Well, Inspector?

I wonder -- would you have
such a thing

as a corkscrew,
by any chance?

They would have been safe
in there for years --

only there wasn´t time
on the first trip.

If George had been late with
his delivery to Greenslade,

he might have got suspicious.

Not exactly master criminals,
are you, Rosie?

A bit on the, uh...
robust side, I suppose.

Probably corked.

No, I think not.

You see, I´ve already
had an expert opinion

on another bottle
from the same batch.

Quite complimentary,
as a matter of fact.

A bit young yet --

not much finish,
but a perfectly decent buy

at around £2.50 a bottle.

Crabbe...

A rough Claret-like wine,
probably Algerian in origin.

Seems they´ve got a nice
little industry down there,

knocking out fake vintages

for the Japanese
and Middle East markets.

And I daresay,
from time to time,

some of it finds its way
over here,

and if one has got
the right sort of contacts --

Freddy, can we talk
for a moment?

Oh, uh, I think we´d better
hear the Inspector out.

I bought that wine
in good faith.

Oh, yes, I´m sure you did,
Mr. Drummond.

But you didn´t buy it
to sell, did you?

You bought it for stealing.

£60,000 of insurance claim
against an outlay of what --

£2,000?

Now, that´s what I´d call
an investment.

This is outrageous!

That´s why no one appeared
to collect the stuff today,

because you had no intention
of turning up, did you?

With your access
to police files,

you were perfectly placed

to pick a couple of ram-raiders.

You did want them stupid,

but you didn´t want them
to get caught, did you?

You can´t prove
any of this.

Oh, I think I can.

I imagine Alvis Murray
and his girlfriend

will be quite able
to identify you

as the man they had
a conversation with

in the carpark
of the Kings Head

in Dockham, wouldn´t you say,
Constable?

Uh, yes, sir.

Absolutely.

It´s not as though we really
need their evidence,

because we have the wine itself.

All right.

It´s possible that
something I´ve said

might have been
misinterpreted.

Freddy, please?

Can´t we just discuss it?

Well, we´ll certainly
discuss it.

Perhaps you could, uh,
wait in your office, sir?

I´ll join you in a moment.

This is
pretty inconvenient, Crabbe.

You do realize that, don´t you?

Certainly.

I don´t suppose there´s any way
of keeping it quiet,

until after
the budget subcommittee meeting?

No, well, um...

Good God.
Ernest Drummond.

I´ve learned in
the past couple of days, sir,

not to judge a wine
by its label.

Coming, Cambridge?

Uh, yes, sir.
Right away.

Back to the restaurant, sir?

Last one.

Yes, and it is positively
the last time

that I help you out,
Rosie Porter.

Sorry, should
I take 100 lines?

This is serious.

The first thing that you can do
is keep your mouth shut

in front of Henry.

Or it´ll be a 100 times
around the quad

of Holloway Prison
for us both.

Hello, Henry.

Ah! Is that
our Cabernet Sauvignon, at last?

Well, not exactly.

It´s George´s.

Well, what´s it doing here then?

Shouldn´t it be
in the lock-up?

Well, it was.

I see.

But, actually,
it´s vintage Bordeaux.

But George...

thought it was
Cabernet Sauvignon.

And Mr. Greenslade thought
he could slip it past Customs

without paying the full VAT?

Yes.

You see?

Only, he didn´t bother
telling George,

and George sort of accidently
delivered the wrong cases.

Um, I think

this is Mr. Greenslade now.

Well, well, well.

Ah, Mr. Greenslade?
We haven´t met.

My name is Henry Crabbe.

I want my wine, Crabbe.

Well, of course, you do.

My wife and Mrs. Porter
explained the mix-up to me.

I think we´ve managed
to sort out your cases --

These are your cases, I take it?

Oh, yes.

They´re mine.

Load them up, gentlemen.

Wait a minute.
You can´t --

Shut up, Rosie.

Um...there´s just
one small thing.

Um, did your agreement
with Mr. Porter entitle him

to any of these
particular cases at all?

Well, how could it?

As far as he´s concerned,
they´re all the same.

Fine.

It´s fine.

Fine.

That lets you off the hook.

Henry, what about
the VAT?

Look, I´m just a policeman.

I´ve got nothing to do
with VAT.

Isn´t that right, Cambridge?

Yes, absolutely.
See?

That´s the lot.

Excellent.

Well done, gentlemen.
Let´s go.

Right.

Mr. Greenslade?

Yes?

Is that your wine, sir?

I don´t understand.
What, uh...

H.M. Customs and Excise.

Investigation branch.

Right then.

If nobody has any objections,
let´s get this dining room

ready for tomorrow morning,
shall we?

We do still have a restaurant
to run, you know.

Apparently,
George doesn´t remember a thing

about Thursday night.

Really?

Well, it is convenient.

Puzzle though, isn´t it?

What?

Well, I´d been assuming that
George had hidden the wine

in Drummond´s warehouse.

You see, that´d explain how
that one bottle

got into the wine tasting.

But now, it appears it was
in his lock-up all along.

Yes, well, uh...

I mean, that is where you
and Rosie found it, isn´t it?

Henry --

Sir, what about
your planning problem?

Somehow, I don´t think we´ll be
hearing any more about that.

Thanks, for the lift.

Pleasure.

Just a moment.

What´s this?

Well, it´s what we call
a video-nasty, Mrs. Crabbe.

Not for viewers
of a nervous disposition.

Oh, thanks.

You coming in?

Yes.

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